


if our love ceases to be, that is the end of my world for me

by streimel



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streimel/pseuds/streimel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faced with no other alternatives, Sungyeol chooses to remove the memories that haunt him</p>
            </blockquote>





	if our love ceases to be, that is the end of my world for me

**Author's Note:**

> title from 2NE1's Missing You video set, aka my background music as I wrote this
> 
> I've never seen it, but if I understand correctly, this plot is very similar to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I think this topic has probably been covered a thousand times, this is just my take

He wasn't going to do it, originally.

To begin with, it was way too expensive. No matter how much it'd be worth, he couldn't drop 50 million won on something like this with his wage-slave salary. Only when his parents finally begged, saying they'd split the bill with him, did he even let the first inkling of a thought slip into his mind.

But he drove on, living day in and day out in a perpetual loop. He woke up early, caught the train to the center of the city and sat at his desk for nine hours, taking a break at 12:45 everyday to go down to convenience store and grabbed some ramyun. He was back at 1:30, keyboard clacking away at numbers and figures and boring, pointless trajectories clients wanted him to track. One day, he'll make good money, and really, the pay wasn't bad for his first job, but now, it's all so dull, it's barely worth it. Wasting away like this, wearing the same stuffy suits and eating the same shit food, it's suffocating.

At 6, he'd leave the office, taking the elevator down to ground level and walking across the street to the station. The train would take him back to the outskirts of the city, to his affordable, lonely apartment with views of the mountains. More ramyun, or ice and kimchi with tofu, and that's the most exciting part of his otherwise meaningless day. He regrets leaving the cat with his mom in college; she's older now, adjusted to her life with his parents and the family dogs, and he can't bring himself to uproot her. Nothing changes, no new experiences occur, not for months on end. Every day is the same, except the weekends, when he sleeps in and does chores all day.

His life used to be exciting. He'd rush home, picking up flowers or wine at the corner store, swooping into the house like Odysseus finally returned from his perilous and thrilling adventures, back to his kingdom. Weekends were meant to explore, for hiking in the forests or a new play or visiting friends. His life used to have meaning, and purpose, and love. That's done now; none of it exists anymore. It's all gone, because he's gone.

His friends didn't understand; neither did his family. This wasn't just a break-up. He was  _abandoned_. Without warning, any hint or idea. He simply came home one day, and half the house was missing. One side of the closet was empty. The left side of the sink was cleared. He had left that morning, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and he had had no idea what was about to happen. None.

Of course, he had tried to find out. He had called, and called, and called, until the phone number was disconnected. He went to his parents' restaurant, but they had turned him away, looking apologetic but firm in their denial. No one would tell him where he went, or why.

It wasn't until a month later, exactly one month after his unexpected abandonment, that someone tells him something.

"Look, he got the procedure done. And before you ask, he didn't tell anyone why he did it before it happened. He started two weeks ago, and he just finished last night. He doesn't remember, any of it. And I know...I know you're upset. I would be upset too. But there's literally not a single thing else you can do. He doesn't remember. If you saw each other on the street, he'd pass by without a second glance. I'm sorry."

Sunggyu was one of his closest friends, someone he could tell everything to, and someone he knew would only tell him the truth and nothing but, but he couldn't accept it. Sunggyu had to be lying. He wouldn't do that; he wouldn't get the procedure, completely erase any memory of them. No, he was going to come back, any day now, and all would be forgiven and they'd live on.

He held on to that bit of denial for another month.

* * *

He'd stopped eating most of the time, stopped going out in general, and his friends started making routine checks on him, sitting in his room with him turned to the wall, trying to entice him with all his favorite take-out and snacks and promises of adventures. He began going to work, and back home, and that was the end and beginning of the excitement in his life. He didn't even buy tteokbokki out anymore. He didn't want to see anyone. He just wanted to be left alone.

If anything, work was fantastic, because it was mind-numbing escape from reality. For a little under half the day, he could stare at a screen until his mind turned to mush and he didn't feel a damn thing. He got promoted two and a half months after the break-up, his bosses blissfully unaware of his personal struggles, and he made even more money he had no plans of spending. All he thinks about is how proud he would have been. He would have made a special dinner, maybe bought him a new watch. They were so great together. It makes no sense.

It's a Sunday, at the end of August and near his birthday, when he finally meets him again.

He'd gone out to buy toilet paper, because, despite what his friends think, he's not a slovenly animal, and he still manages to keep his basic hygiene in check. He's stopped looking for him in crowds, stopped going to their normal hangouts and waiting for him, but sometimes, sometimes when he sees someone, a bit on the short side with that everlasting haircut he always wore, he can't help but look. It's just pure, emotional reaction.

He does it more often then he'd like to admit, sometimes multiple times a day, and it's always the same; he looks back over his shoulder, but it's not him. It's some other guy, and before he knows it, he's already forgotten about them. Their faces simply disappear back into the sea of people. And now, he's so used to doing that, the quick look and confirmation it's not him, that he almost does it again.

He swears his heart stops beating when realizes he just passed him in the street, and his body's turning on it's own accord, hand reaching out to grab the sleeve of the denim jacket he's wearing before it all really, completely registers in his mind. His heart goes from zero to sixty, from a dead pulse line to a roaring drum beat in his chest, and his stomach rises to his mouth in the most excitable way. He knew he would come back. He knew it. He never gave up believing in them.

"Woohyun!"

Woohyun turns around in a daze, like he's walking in a dream or something, and he stares at the hand on his sleeve before looking up at him.

"Uhm, yes? Can I help you?"

Woohyun's always loved to play pranks, so he just waits. Woohyun'll break in a moment, slap his shoulder like he always used to do and yell "gotcha!" That's what they did. They loved doing that. That's why they went to well together. Two troublemakers wrecking havoc on the world. Yes, just a moment, and he'll knock it off. Just a moment.

A moment passes, and then another, and his hand is still on Woohyun's sleeve. Woohyun looks uncomfortable, and a bit confused, and when Woohyun pulls his arm back, he lets it go.

"Have we met? I'm sorry, sometimes I forget people's faces."

It feels like poison in his body, like a quick and dangerous concoction that runs in his veins from the tips of his fingers all the way to his toes; he feels each limb paralyze, feels his heart die in his chest, and his tongue falters like it's glued to the bottom of his mouth, lips sewed together and unable to speak. Before today, he didn't realize you could die and yet somehow still live, to have one's mind continue even when the rest of one's body gave up the fight, and he feels his head move robotically, like it's controlled by something else besides his own volition.

"Uh...yeah, I'm...Sunggyu's friend. We met at his birthday party a few years back."

It's a hundred percent true. That  _is_  where they met, on April 28, 2012, in an apartment in Mapo-gu, a surprise party thrown by Dongwoo, a mutual friend of both of them and Sunggyu's now-fiancee, for Sunggyu's 24th birthday. The memory is so vivid, how they had both brought gags to scare Sunggyu (Woohyun with silly string he sprayed Sunggyu with the moment he opened the door, him with his mixed drinks spiked with vinegar), and how they had smiled at each other, eyes meeting across the room in silent approval and newfound camaraderie when Sunggyu had choked up the drink into the kitchen sink, and they had sat on the couch together, debating ways to make Dongwoo cry.

Of course, they were immature then. They got better as time went on (though not by much), and one memory leads to another until he's remembering mountainside hikes and two warm hands interlocked as they strolled through an art museum. There are fleeting images of pancakes on Sundays and cold toes between the sheets in the middle of December. So very many memories, flashing like cameras in his mind, and here Woohyun stands, mind wiped clean of any of them. They have a million memories, but now he has to carry the burden of remembering them alone.

Woohyun pulls him out of his reverie when he shifts from one foot to another, staring him down before snapping his fingers. "Oh, yes. I, uhm, vaguely remember now. Sorry, it's been so long since we met, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. Are you doing well?"

Woohyun's never been the warmest of people ever, but he also never falters from the polite standards expected of him. And it's so strange, that after they shared a bed together every night for years, after he's seen Woohyun at his very worst, breaking down over the stress of life and throwing things in anger after a bad day and puking his guts out from food poisoning, seen him naked and vulnerable and in the most intimate ways, tasted the skin on the inside of his legs and knows how the crook of his neck smells when he's sweating, that after all that, this is what it has come down to, that Woohyun is giving him the cool, impersonal questions he feels he's obligated to ask an acquaintance. An  _acquaintance_ , for God's sake.

He only feels the tears about a millisecond before Woohyun's eyebrows furrow, and he chokes a little when he hears him ask "are you okay?" He can't think of the exact antonym of the word 'okay' at the moment (he's doing good just not to scream), but he nods, mumbling something about Woohyun catching him at a bad time and apologizing for the nuisance. He bows politely, not even making eye contact, because he can tell Woohyun is feeling awkward, wanting to get away, and he lets him leave.

This is what it's come down to.

He's not sure why he answers Sunggyu's phone call hours later, because he knows what Sunggyu's going to say before he even hits 'accept', but he's so lost right now, so torn apart and despondent that even he needs someone right now, anyone, any person who can answer him why.

He and Sunggyu have never needed formal greetings, never beat around the bush with anything really, so it's no surprise to him when Sunggyu simply comes right out and starts talking about what he called for.

"Woohyun called me today. He said he ran into someone he barely remembers from my birthday party a few years back, and he asked me to check on them. He says that it was a real awkward experience, that they started crying in the middle of talking, and abruptly left without really saying anything, even their name. Not that I'm one to jump to conclusions or anything, but I had a good feeling of who it was. So, I guess what I'm saying is...are you okay, Sungyeol?"

Sunggyu's voice had been tinged with just a hint of judgement at the beginning, but it had slowly melted in something Sungyeol disgustedly recongnizes as pity, and he sighs loudly into the receiver, silently voicing his frustration with the situation. A lot of people pity him, or try to uncessarily baby him, and he expects better with Sunggyu.

"What do you expect? How would you feel, if you were in my shoes? Of course I'm not fucking okay, Sunggyu." It comes out a lot angrier than he expected, and he didn't realize until just now how full of rage he was. If he had just a bit more energy, he'd throw the lamp on his bedside table against the wall maybe, but now, he's just too tired.

"I know, Sungyeol. I'm sorry."

The sadness in Sunggyu's voice doesn't disappear, only growing stronger the more he says, and Sungyeol coughs, throat burning with unshed tears he uselessly wills away before they slip down the sides of his cheeks anyways. If he had one clue, just a hint of why this had happened, he might be able to move on, but he doesn't, and therefore, he can't. He can't _just_  let this go, can't  _just_  come to terms, and he needs to know why, even if it kills him.

"He didn't know me." It's half-question, half-statement, and Sunggyu hums on the end of the line.

"Yeah."

"He doesn't remember, does he." It's a statement alone, but Sunggyu answers it anyways.

"He doesn't remember."

* * *

The place certainly isn't what he expects. Of course, then again, he didn't really know what he expected in the first place, it's just, this defintely isn't it.

His nurse, or whatever her job description is, meets him in scrubs as he sits on the examination table, kicking his legs against the side in impatience. It looks exactly like a doctor's office; there are cotton swabs and alcohol wipes in glass containers on the sink, a box of gloves in a holder on the wall and a biohazard container for shots by the trashcan. He pokes at the heart monitor pump dangling from the sleeve next to the table, watching it swing back and forth like a pendulum. He's waited nearly 30 minutes, and he's began to doubt himself in the meantime.

It's an odd way to spend a birthday, but he's reached a breaking point, and he wasn't going to survive much longer without doing something. Meeting Woohyun made him realize nothing was going to be done, to change or be revealed, that the procedure had taken away every potential answer to why this happened, and the only way to stop from going crazy was to do it himself.

He's just lucky he got in quick enough, before he second-guessed himself.

In truth, it's really a bad idea. 5 years of memories are going to go down the drain just like that, and he can't help but wonder how they're going to fill in those missing blanks. How is he going to go home to the apartment they shared and have a memory about putting a down-payment on it, if Woohyun's part of the memory? Will he remember his cousin's wedding, the first real family event Woohyun went to? What about those New Years in Jeju, all three of them with his family and Woohyun's too? He has so many questions, so much uncertainty on how this will work, and his fingers crush the paper lining the table beneath his palms.

When he had called, he had expected a two month waiting period like everyone else, plenty of time to talk himself out of it, but someone else had just canceled (smart choice, in his opinion), and they had offered the spot to him. And so here he is, about to expunge his memories because it's the only way he can live, can endure living, and he feels ambivalent, an odd mix of nauseous and relieved. He's never wanted something he didn't want to actually do so badly.

The nurse is kind, eyes attentive and understanding as she explains the procedure and his recovery time and protocols. Her hands are gentle when she takes his blood pressure, listens to his heart, checks him out to make sure he can be sedated safely, and he relaxes a little bit under her touch. She looks at him not with pity, but with reassurance, simply supporting a person in their endeavor to better the quality of their life. There's no judgement, no poking or prodding at his reasons; she simply just  _gets it_ , and he silently thanks something out there that she understands.

"Now, you're not going to be completely out; we need you awake to help guide through the memories. The software will pick up familiar streams of memories, recognizing faces or similar emotions to target those memories that need to be removed, but you'll still have the ability to keep any memory you want, if you say you want to. Since your memories span over five years, it will probably take more than one session, but no more than three, almost certainly. Is everything making sense?"

He still has questions, and he looks at the floor, trying to remember everything to ask. "First, how will the deletion of so many memories make sense in my mind afterward? Aren't I going to have gaps where I'll only have a few memories...without him...and how is everything going to make sense? Moreover, how am I going to react when I wake up in the clinic after my memories are removed? Am I going to remember that I needed memories removed, and then stress because I can't remember what they were? It sounds counter-intuitive..."

"Good questions," she responds sincerely, rearranging the clipboard to look at his papers. "Memories don't have to be completely deleted; fragments can be removed, recreating the memory without those key portions you want gone. It takes longer than just deleting the memory, so keep that in mind. For instance, hm, if you were, say, with that someone at a concert, for instance, you can keep those memories because they are dear to you; the program will just erase them in the memory. Now, I know it sounds a bit scary, but a lot of memories will need to be recreated and filled with additional fragments. The software is intelligent, so it will format new memories to your personality and reactions and decisions made in other similar memories, but some of the memories you have will be new."

"You mean I'll remember things I never actually experienced, then?" That doesn't exactly sound like what he wants, but he guesses it's better than the alternative.

"Yes, that's right. We limit how much we do that, however, and the software will allow you to confirm or deny if you want a memory it creates before it implants it and removes the other one. For instance, when you wake up from your last session, you'll remember coming for an in-house procedure where we needed to put you under, and you'll have no recollection of the memory removal. Just smudging the truth a little, where's it needed; we're not changing your whole catalogue of memories like some sci-fi thriller movie," she laughs, cheeks dimpling, before her face grows more serious. "Unless you want that, that is."

"Okay." There's really nothing else he can do now, and he picks up a pen as she hands him some last forms.

"This is just saying that you are doing this on your own accord and not under pressure of anyone other outside force. The next page discusses the legal implications of memory removal and how they are stored in case you should ever be in a position to want or require them restored. I already have your information on your memory keeper, hm, one Kim Sunggyu, yes? Good, good, just sign and date and we'll be ready to go."

He jumps down and follows her down to a gurney in the hall, kicking off his shoes and laying back and she and another nurse wheel him into a procedure room, dim and comfortably cozy despite the necessary sterility of a medical space, and his anesthesiologist awaits them, surgical mask over his face with only smiling eyes peeking out above it.

"Mr. Lee! Hello, I'm Doctor Cha, I'll be assisting you today. I see they've put in your IV, so I'll just administer this quickly. You'll feel relaxed but alert, okay?"

He nods, stomach suddenly in knots, and his mouth feels dry as they nurses ask him all the last questions before they begin.

"Lee Sungyeol, born 27 of August, 1991?"

"Yes."

"Here for memory removal procedure, with sedation?"

"Yes."

"Please administer, Doctor Cha."

* * *

Everything feels very hazy in a slow sort of way, and he's not sure if they begin the procedure a minute or an hour after he begins the feel the sedative kicking in. He feels a lot of pressure around his head, can feel the wires dangling down his back and over his cheeks, but he's not sure what they're actually doing; he's not sure he wants to know what they're doing. Both of the nurses talk to him in soothing, calm voices, and he feels really, really nice actually. Calmer than he's been in months.

A doctor comes in, hair salt-and-pepper with a smattering of white, and the wrinkles around his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he introduces himself. Sungyeol doesn't remember his name a minute after he says it, but that's okay. Everyone is so nice, making him feel so at peace, nothing matters in the world.

"Does it hurt?"

It kind of comes out in the way people say silly things when they are tired and near sleep, and he closes his eyes as he awaits an answer, feeling close to sleep himself but somehow completely certain he won't actually get there. There's a moment of silence, and his cracks open his eyes, watching the nurses and the doctor give each other solemn looks before turning back to him.

"Well, maybe. It depends on how much you want to retain the memory. Memories are very precious, and sometimes they also don't want to leave. You must approach each memory with the mindset of releasing it, like setting a bird out to the wind. If you fight it, it can hurt."

"Okay," he says sleepily, eyes closing again. He feels so comfortable now, that shouldn't be a problem. No, he  _wants_  them to go, and he'll be glad to get them away. Yes, this will be easy.

"I want you to think of a particularly vivid memory, okay? One that stands out clearly, and one with a lot of emotion. Can you do that for me?" his doctor asks somewhere behind him, and he nods quickly. No problem.

* * *

When he starts screaming, one of the nurses rubs his back, shushing words into his ear, and her hands on him are the only thing that keep him from flipping the table over as he struggles.

The first memory comes unwelcomed, a vivid image of Woohyun over him, tears on his face and a constant stream of " _iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou_ " on his lips. He can feel it, can feel the way Woohyun's fingers bit into his shoulders as they moved together, can feel the sticky heat of their stomachs pressed together, and even though he knows the doctor and nurses can see the memory themselves on the machine they use to remove them, he doesn't have the willpower to be embarrassed about the intimate scene. It hurts, so bad, to remember, to relive, and the doctor has to yell above his screaming to be heard.

"Sungyeol, Sungyeol, do you want it gone? Do you want the memory gone? Focus, Sungyeol. It's okay."

He moans something out, something he guesses sounds like a yes, because then the memory collapses like a pillar of sand, painfully flying in a million directions, but he doesn't feel it in his mind. His heart wrenches painfully as it obliterates everything else, and he heaves, heavy, wracking sobs making his chest rise and fall like he's hyperventilating. His lungs feel like they're exploding, and the nurse hugs against him, humming to him like a he's a crying child.

And then something's gone, and he's no longer sure why he's crying. He remembers where he is, and why he's here, but he suddenly isn't aware what just happened, only that he feels a lingering sadness.

"What did you remove? What just happened?"

The doctor and nurses don't have time to answer, because the machine has already caught on to the fragments it was looking for, memories of Woohyun, memories of them together, and a myriad of different scenes flit through his mind at rapid speed. One moment, he's watching Woohyun make pancakes in just underwear and an apron, and the next, they're arguing over him leaving wet towels on the floor. He sees the two of them, toes in the sand in Busan at sunset, sees Woohyun at the end of his nose as he wakes up in the middle of the night with them pressed face to face. It's so painful, that he screams again, and he endlessly repeats himself, a hundred yeses as the doctor removes memory after memory. He has sudden moments of calmness, when he isn't sure what just happened, but then a memory hits him, and though he can't remember what's been removed, he can guess it was something big. Something with Woohyun. Something that hurt.

It feels like eternity before the doctor finally signals to the nurses to remove the equipment on his head, and he sits for a while, one of them rubbing his back as he sobs quietly, breath catching on a dry sob every now and then. He doesn't remember what's missing, wouldn't even be aware of the memories being gone if he weren't right here in the office still, but he cries because of what he has to do, because even though so many of the moments are gone, he still has so many left, and he's in the very worst place, one foot already firmly stepping forward into this abyss with the rest of his body suspended in that half-second of awareness that you're going to fall and you can't do anything about it. The process is started, but he has no relief. Yet.

"We'll work on reformatting the memories that need to remain next time," the doctor says quietly, patting his shoulder lightly. "It takes a bit longer than just removing them. You did a great job, Sungyeol. You're very strong."

He can't help but cynically wonder if the doctor really means that, or if it's just an impeccable bedside manner he spouts off to any patient, but he nods anyways, resting while the sedative wears off. The nurses call Sunggyu to come pick him up, and he waits on the gurney, trying his best to remember anything that's gone. There are blanks, consecutive strands of memories he still has that no longer have an end or a beginning, but nothing comes back.

It's really gone.

* * *

It still hurts a week later, but he's better at managing the pain. He sits up, the nurse on duty holding his hands as he latches on to her, and they begin again, recreating the memories he needs to keep.

It's surreal to watch, to see just himself, instead of him and Woohyun, meet with a realtor, sign the papers for the apartment, move in with the help of Sunggyu and Dongwoo and his parents and Daeyeol. The doctor asks if he approves of the changes, now void of Woohyun's presence, and he nods once. The memory he had morphs, and now, that's his reality. He doesn't remember that they moved in because Woohyun liked the morning view of the sun rising over the forest. He now remembers picking it because it was close to his train station, and there was a market on the corner and a cafe downstairs.

He debates getting rid of the memory of watching the news showing the results of the latest presidential election, because he didn't really care besides Woohyun insisting it was an important part of their history, but the doctor insists. No matter what, he'll need a memory of it as he grows older, just because it's a suspicious blank to have, and they change that one to, to him reading the paper on the train the next morning, even though he rarely reads the things.

More memories are removed, and they call it a day much sooner than he expects.

"You did fantastic today," the doctor says reassuringly. "The next session should be the last."

He has such odd fragments of Woohyun now, he barely remembers why he was so upset about the break-up. At least, that is, until he remembers how it felt waking up in the empty apartment, the confusion and fear; the doctor says it's best to leave the first and last memory until the end, just to help one stay focused on the task at hand, and while he doesn't remember most of what happened in those five years now, it must have been good, because that last memory is killing him.

The maddening part is, there are now a mix of memories that go against each other, and he sits uncomfortably in Sunggyu's guest room, wracking his brain to understand. He has memories of Valentine's Days where Woohyun brings him flowers, and then ones where his mom calls him, saying he should date more. He supposed they could have broken up a few times and gotten back together, but the contradict each other at this point, and he has a hard time picking out reality and fiction. He doesn't remember those memories of his mom were fabricated, created to explain the five years he was single in his mind, and it confuses him to no end.

He looks forward to it being over soon.

* * *

The last procedure is done in a little under 40 minutes.

The last memory of Woohyun goes first, and they work backward, searching and searching again for any trace of him in any memory, looking to be absolutely rid of him so as not to confuse him later on. More moments are fabricated, and finally, they reach Sunggyu's birthday party, the first time he met Woohyun.

"I want to keep this memory."

Everything is gone besides this, and he doesn't even remember what he came in here for, just that he was looking to remove something for some reason. The nurses look at the doctor, and he just shrugs. "It should be fine," he says, and they lay him back into the bed.

"Alright, Mr. Lee. We're going to put you under completely, and when you come up, you'll think you just finished an endoscopy, okay? You're not going to remember you came here for memory removal. You can keep the party memory. Does that sound okay?"

Sungyeol nods, looking up at the ceiling, and when he blinks, Sunggyu is there.

"How was it?"

He thinks for a moment, sluggish from the drugs, before remembering why he's here. "Oh, I don't even remember it. The last thing I recall is the nurse saying the doctor will be in after I wake up for read my results."

Sunggyu nods, and Sungyeol can't quite place why his eyes are so concerned. He just had a bit of stomach issues, nothing to worry about at all, and it's not like anything really serious is going on.

"By the way, thanks for helping me. And understanding."

Sunggyu's head whips around quickly, eyes too wide in surprise, and he doesn't understand Sunggyu's jumpiness today. They're close, but Sunggyu doesn't worry unnecessarily or fuss like Dongwoo does, and he wonders if Sunggyu knows something he doesn't.

"For what? Are you...okay?" Sunggyu's voice is deathly silent, and that's so strange.

"For letting me stay at your place while I recover and picking me up and stuff. Jeez, chill. I'm okay. Right? I am okay, yes? You haven't already spoken to my doctor, have you?" The thought suddenly panics him, and he tries to sit up before Sunggyu pushes him back down.

"No, no, sorry, I haven't, you just scared me for a moment, is all." Sunggyu's speaking too fast, and Sungyeol means to get back to that topic later, but the doctor knocks on his door, and his stomach twists nervously.

"Mr. Lee, I have great news! You are all clear, and you shouldn't have any issues from here on out."

Sunggyu visibly relaxes, and he misses the look exchanged between the doctor and Sunggyu as he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This issue popped up so quickly, just within the last few months, and he's glad it's already resolved.

"Does that mean I'm free to go?"

"Yes, feel free as soon as you feel you're able to get up and walk around."

It takes him a bit to get steady on his feet, and he leans heavily on Sunggyu as they walk out the doors to the clinic. He doesn't understand why Sunggyu's hand is gripped into his shirt so roughly, as if he fears letting him go, but he let's the subject drop; Sunggyu is a really good friend.

* * *

It's nearly a month later when he's cleaning out the second room in his too big apartment, debating with himself for the umpteenth time if it was really a smart idea to move into an apartment really meant for two people, that he finds the letter. It's tucked inside a used book he vaguely remembers buying at some market stall in Gwangju or something, on some trip he vaguely remembers taking for a reason he can't really recall at the moment. It's a book of photographs, of couples from around the world explaining why they love each other, and he laughs at the over-sentimental mood that had apparently struck him when he bought it. He's usually not so lovey-dovey or romantic, but he must have done it to throw on the coffee table and impress anyone who came over to his place.

He goes to move the book to another shelf when the letter slips out, floating to the floor at his feet. He picks it up, not recognizing the messy scrawl, and he reads it once and again, trying to make sense of it.

_I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It sounds so cliche, but it really wasn't you, but me. I grew uncomfortable, feeling like I was missing something else out there in the world, and I wanted to taste it. Wanted to experience something else, to be able to say when I'm older that I got to live fully like I wanted. So I did exactly that, tasting and experiencing and taking what I wanted, and I realized I was stupid; it did nothing for me, and I felt like a criminal, crawling back into bed next to you in the middle of the night when you had no idea where I had just been. I got so good at it, at being quiet enough to not even wake you, of all people, up. I hope you can find it in you to forget me, by whatever means necessary. Because I am a coward, I am erasing my memories as soon as I can. I love you, and I'm sorry._

He stares at the letter for a long while, feeling overwhelmed by this stranger he's never even met and their overwhelming sadness. If he understands the letter correctly, what they did definitely wasn't right, but if this stranger's lover loved them as much as he apparently loved them, selfish as it was, he almost wonders if something else could have been done.

He burns the letter later, feeling like he's intruded on something he wasn't supposed to see. He feels like he's glimpsed into someone else's life, and the memory stays with him forever, of the things people do to each other when they love each other. He just hopes that never happens to him.

* * *

He sits on the balcony with Sunggyu at Sunggyu's wedding, temporarily escaping the dance floor Dongwoo is tearing up inside to take in the cool breeze with a couple of beers in hand. Sunggyu looks happier than he has in a long time, and he can't help but feel a little jealous over his good luck in the matters of love.

"How come someone like you can end up with someone like Dongwoo, but I've been single for six years? It makes no sense."

Sunggyu cuts his eyes at him for the insult, but he looks away uncomfortably. For whatever reason, Sunggyu hates when he pokes fun at himself for being single, and he still doesn't understand why. No matter how much he pushes, Sunggyu never gives him any explanation, either.

"Some of your friends aren't bad. Howon's pretty nice, even if he's short, though he seems to hang off of that Sungjong kid you work with. I've already gone on dates with Myungsoo before, can you say clingy with a capital C? Heechul scares me, and so does Jaejoong. Though that Woohyun kid, I vaguely remember meeting him at your party forever ago, why did I never get his number? He's hot. Hook me up, okay?"

It's all a joke, even if he'd love to get married one day, but before he can elbow Sunggyu suggestively, the bottle Sunggyu was drinking out of hits the ground, splintering into a million pieces, and he jumps back.

"Whoa, you okay? Usually I'm the one breaking stuff. What happened?"

"It just slipped. Moisture," Sunggyu answers, wiping a hand against his thigh. "Hey, look, uhm, don't play around about Woohyun. Just...don't."

He can't help but feel a little taken aback; Sunggyu usually lets him do whatever he wants and then holds it above his head later, but this is unprecedented levels of warning from him, and he feels like something is off between them. Sunggyu is dead serious, which is common for him, but he's not letting up like he usually does.

"Okay? It was just a joke. I mean, we look like we'd go good together-"

"You wouldn't. Just...please. You wouldn't."

He can't help but scoff, pride hurt over something that started out as a joke. It's like Sunggyu can magically see the future or something, and he almost wans to defiantly go press up against Woohyun right now, just to prove him wrong. He hates being told what to do, even if Sunggyu is apparently looking out for him.

"Promise me, Sungyeol," Sunggyu warns, as if reading his mind, and he nods as he rolls his eyes, placating Sunggyu before they go back inside.

He doesn't even feel childish when he crosses his fingers behind his back.


End file.
